In the days following Hurricane Melissa's impact, everyday routines in Jamaica have taken on new meaning. This personal account, written by AnnMarie Patrick, captures one such moment. AnnMarie, who lives just outside of Negril with her children, reflects on the emotional morning drive to take her son to school with her daughter Lizzy beside her. Through her eyes, we see not just the physical effects of the storm, but the courage and resilience that families across the island continue to show as life moves forward.
I ended up in Black River earlier today.
Munro has returned to face to face classes and while I await temporary housing considerations (deh statement deh a lot more complex than needed but it a stay), Toro convinced me to allow him to travel as usual. He claimed the regular buses were running but I wouldn't have it, so I got up at my usual 4AM and by 5:15 we set out. Ideally, 5:05 should be the latest, as the buses in Whitehouse leave around 5:45AM and as I did not know the conditions of the roadway, I couldn't determine my new travel time.
When I reached Sav I saw three other students, one for Hampton and two seniors that I knew well who were also Munronians. My plan was to go to Whitehouse and confirm for myself that JJ or Mickey were actually offering their services again and then make a decision from that. All the buses were gone when I arrived. I had taken my time and in honesty in the dim dawning light I felt a crippling shock throughout the journey as I remembered "wha did deh yah suh."
Our next move was to catch up with JJ in Black River at the Black River High School. He was just moments ahead of me and by the time he'd finished his pickups in Brompton we were right under his tail.
After telling Toro to pull up his pants - BTW, we need to consider the mental state of our children and how they've been affected by all of this. I saw a light in Toro's eyes this morning that I didn't even realize was missing. I think going back to school is as much of therapy as it is for the continuation of studies, but I digressed.
I decided to go beyond the High School and go into Black River. Afterall, I had already seen the pics and videos, heard the accounts, learned of the business places flattened, felt what I felt, it couldn't be worse, right?
Maybe mi need fi leff it deh suh!
The Wrath of Melissa
Just know Crane Road for me was like the little pretty quiet cousin that the popular girl Negril has, that few people know about because she's boarding far away. When you meet her, you fall in love with her completely. That's Crane Road to me. Melissa walked and dismantled everything! Brick, sand, stone, fence, metal, concrete, everything crumbled at her feet! She dealt a serious blow to the Black River I know, well knew.
Coming back into Sav the sunlight brought new vision to what I had missed. My picturesque, beloved Belmont, whose sea and sunset settled in my heart as a secret paradise that only needed the creation of a proper beach, gripped me to the point that I had to stop to catch my breath. There were no placard bearing residents. Just Tarps and open bedrooms, some still sound asleep while a few still going through rubble perhaps deciding what they can still keep. As I continued to Watercrest, I heard someone yell 'Ann-Marie', I felt a tightening in my chest. Lizzy was fast asleep beside me to I could cry but I could not stop. I was not brave enough to, I am sorry. I had no words, no help, no solution, just a house dress and a broken spirit - as an onlooker. I had no right to act as though I could understand even as I write this and stand under my soiled solutex that must be changed, but what do I know of Melissa's wrath? The value I give is to speak of how all of this breaks my heart.
I stopped at Icon and cried. Bought coffee, used the bathroom and cried again. Then I remembered that Lizzy was in the car and returned to her, all in 15 minutes.
Reflections of an Onlooker
Why am I sharing this, I don't know. It's not solution based, it's not content, it's not advice, it's not a lecture.
I don't know anymore. I just don't know anymore. I want to end as I have done most of the times by saying 'we shall overcome' but I now realize that saying this from inside my house and while I run my car's AC is easier for me than many.
I don't know anymore. I just don't know anymore.